The Bond (The Gift Part II)
by soavezefiretto
Summary: Followup on The Gift. (Alternate version of season 4) Willow and Spike's final confrontation with the Initiative - and themselves. **(HAPPY??) END NOW UP*** Please r&r.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:I didn't invent any of the characters depicted in this story, or the general situation in which the story takes place. I am not making any money with this.  
  
Comment:This is basically an alternate version of season four, centered on a new relationship between Spike and Willow. Things with the Initiative are slightly different, too, meaning that they are really bad guys in this one. Adam has already been eliminated, and Spike didn't betray the gang to him. Tara is not a part of this story.  
It would be best (and really appreciated by me, too :)) if you read the first part of this story, The Gift, which deals with the first stages of Spike and Willow's friendship, how it came about, and how things between the Scoobies are changing as a result. But time is precious, and that's why I'm offering you a short summary of The Gift here.   
  
"The Gift", summary: Spike has been captured again by the Initiative and is beeing subjected to food deprivation and isolation. Willow has to rescue him on her own (since he might provide valious information and is considered less dangerous by the Slayer the closer she can control him), while Buffy and the gang deal with a major demon-concentration. Willow finds Spike in a cell, in a pitiful condition, too weak to move, so she feeds him on her own blood until he is able to follow her out of the Initiative's facilities.  
In spite of his condition, the gang still finds it hard to believe that the Initiative is the heartless, monstrous institution that Spike reports it to be. All except for Willow, who confronts her friends and then joins Spike, dissuading him of his original plan to just blow up all of Sunnydales underground. Instead, they infiltrate the Initiative again and find thousands of pictures of unspeakably tortured creatures as proof for the ruthless and cruel "investigations" of the institution. These pictures they bring back to Buffy and the soobies to convince they were right in considering the Initiative their worst enemy.  
Meanwhile, Spike has told Willow that, as a consequence of feeding him her blood of her own free will, she is now marked. She and Spike are "bonded": he will feel it if Willow has strong emotional reactions of fear, anger, or any other kind. Likewise, he will be instinctively drawn to her whenever HE gets very emotional about something. They get a pretty scary example of how this bond works, when Spike collapses on the floor in convulsions as a consequence of Willow's reaction of extreme anger when she sees a picture of Spike being tortured.  
  
I hope that didn't bore you too much. Maybe it even made you want to read the original after all...:) Anyway, on with the fun.  
  
Oh, one last thing: please, please REVIEW, otherwise this story will dry and whither away; in return, I promise to update regularly. I am greatful for suggestions, and please don't hesitate to correct spelling, grammar and such - englich is not my native language.  
  
  
  
The Bond  
by  
Miranda  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
There it was again. And this time, there was no mistaking it: it was the girl. He knew it with a certainty that had mothing to do with actual knowledge. No one had told him, he hadn't seen anything - it was the bond speaking to him. The girl was with someone, and she was very excited. If she was not having sex already, it would happen very soon.  
  
On the previous night, and the night before that, Spike had been able to dismiss these sensations as products of his own fantasy. He was getting too little sleep these days, and a diet consisting of the blood of cows and pigs mixed with oatmeal could get at anyone's constitution.   
  
And then there was the uncertainty of their position against the Initiative, and the frustrating calm with which Buffy and her stupid gang were dealing with the situation - true, Willow's plan to implant a virus into their main system had been at least partly successful, their operations seemed to have stopped. But they WOULD regroup and reorganize, and they would do so with a vengeance. And all the while, Buffy and her pet-Scoobies were sitting in Giles' living-room, having long, maddening chats about contacting the proper authorities (WHAT proper authorities? It was "the proper authorities" who were sponsoring the Initiatives' activities, any blind child could see that) or taking trips to bloody Roswell.  
  
So yes, this uneasiness, this tugging that came from inside and led him in a direction he didn't want to acknowledge, this sudden tingling in his blood - all those things he hed felt on the two previous nights could very well be nothing but fabrications of his own overstressed mind and body. Waking-time remnants of the nightmares that haunted him whenever he closed his eyes to sleep. Residues of the white light and the constant hum that still wouldn't leave his mind...  
  
But tonight, there was no way of denying it anymore: his mind, his blood, every nerve in his body was talking to him about the girl. On the nights before, her feelings had been subdued, unprecise and rapidly supressed; but tonight she was giving in to them, she was letting it happen. Spike could feel her mounting excitement coursing strongly through his own veins. Oh, Willow...  
  
Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. He would go crazy if he just kept on sitting in his crypt, waiting for her to finish her encounter with whoever the bloody bastard was that had gotten lucky that night. Spike's first impulse was to let his instincts and the bond lead him to where she was, rip the aforementioned bastard to pieces and take over where he had left off. But the chip in his brain would of course prevent him of giving the guy as much as a friendly knock over the head, and anyway, he didn't want to hurt or scare Willow. He wasn't that far gone. After all, she was his Bonded One, and he owed her. He owed her in ways he wasn't prepared to fully accept yet.  
  
On second thought, maybe he could just go out there and get himself ANY girl - pick her up at a club, or even off the street - he wouldn't even have to use violence, he could be perfectly charming and adorable if he put his mind to it. At least he could turn all this inconvenience into an agreeable night, after all. Of course, it would have been much better still if he could have sucked whatever girl he chose dry after shagging her, but these days, the all too common shagging-and-dumping act would have to do. Maybe he should go look for friend Xander's girl, what was her name, Anna? Anja? Angela? She sure liked sex and made no secret of it either, and she had even shown a certain inclination for him on occasion...  
  
But he had not even reached the door when he stopped in his tracks. None of the images of gorgeous, exhuberant, enticing and sexually depraved women that he was running through his mind stirred lust or arousal. On the contrary, he was felt sickened at the mere thought. What he was feeling was not him - it was all Willow, HER arousal, HER lust and pleasure, this was her moment, and Spike realised that there was nothing for him to do but sit through it, wait 'til it was over... and wish her a good time.  
  
He leaned against the stone wall of his crypt and lit a cigarette. It was going to be a long night.  
  
-----------------  
  
The day was overcast and uncommonly humid. Downright sticky. Mosquitoes were buzzing low, and an eerie slience lay over Sunnydale in the early afternoon hours. Buffy and Riley had promised to pick her up, but that would be later, once they had spent the day's heat on each other, and slept off the exhaustion, and were ready to dance themselves into heat again at the Bronze. Willow smiled to herself. Those two were acting as if this were a once-in-a-millenium chance to get sex for free.  
  
Then her smile faded. She was happy for her friend, but she feared she was too lost in her blissful cloud to pay enough attention to the problems at hand. Now the Initiative knew someone was moving against them, and it wouldn't take them long to find out who. And then what? Buffy seemed confident enough, she kept saying they would take this one step at a time. Having no strategy was the best way to surprise them, she said, who could outplan the gang if the gang didn't even have a plan?  
  
But Willow could not forget the look in Buffy's eyes when she had confronted the gang about the Initiative's methods and motives. That look had said "I like my life just the way it is, and if I have to fight to make it stay this way, I will. I will fight you if I have to, Willow. And I will win." And then there had been that distant expression on Buffy's face when Willow had told them about her and Spike's incursion into the Initiative's facilities. Those pictures still haunted Willow's dreams, but when Buffy put them down, her expression never changed. She just said: "I'll have to talk to Riley", and since then she had adopted this placid attidude.   
  
But Willow didn't feel placid at all. Willow was actually getting a severe case of the creeps. And then there was this other thing, this... this yearning inside her. She had never felt this way, it was as if someone had taken away a part from her she never even knew was there. It was a kind of hollow emptiness, Willow could feel it growing inside her, and it scared her more than any demon, more than the Initiative, more than her own powers.  
  
She shook her head and sat up on her bed. She had to get out of this room or soon she would be talking to the walls. A mental list of her options for the afternoon didn't offer very encouraging results: the movies? She wasn't in the mood to watch Mel Gibson save the world again. Giles'? Another study session with the musty old books and she would definitely develop an allergy against demons and yellowing pages. Besides, Giles was giving her the oddest looks these last days, almost as if he was suspicious of her. The library? She had no papers due, and was too distracted to do any serious research. Spike? He would be asleep and annoyed with her for disturbing him. It was too hot for a walk, but she decided she needed to get out and stretch her legs anyway.  
  
The cemetery was deserted. Willow found herself wandering around between the grey tombs before she could decide consciously where she wanted to go. There was a deep shadow beneath the trees, and it was very quiet. Not even a single cricket. All the birds were asleep, and the blades of grass were hushed.   
  
And there was the crypt. She had been so distracted with her thoughts that she had just let her legs take her where they wanted. Or had this been in her mind before she even left her room? The air was thick and heavy, it wrapped itself around her thoughts like a wet cloth, inside her usually focused mind everything seemed to be a blur, and inside her heart too. Unvoluntarily, Willow had to think of yesterday night, and a hot wave of shame and guilt washed over her, like the sudden memory of an unfulfilled promise.   
  
Inside it would be cool....  
  
Suddenly, Willow wished for nothing more than to lay her cheek against the cold stone. Spike would never know she was there, she would just slip beside him on the slate where he lay... Whithout hesitation she took the key from its hiding place and opened the door.  
  
"Spike?", she whispered, noticing that her voice was hoarse. Then she stepped into the darkness and closed the door behind her. 


	2. Chapter 2

Comment:Please, PLEASE don't make me explain :)) Chapter 3 coming up soon.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
He was awake. Leaning against the slate on which Willow had expected to find him stretched out, he was looking straight at her when she came though the door. Hands in his pockets, wearing his customary black jeans and T-shirt.   
  
Willow flinched and dropped the key. While she fumbled for it on the floor, she felt an absurd flush rise to her cheeks and stammered: "Oh, I- I didn't think you'd be awake, I... I didn't mean to...to..." Then her small fist closed around the key. Willow shook her head, stood up, faced Spike and decided that she would rather not speak at all than do that pitiful stammering number again. What was going on with her these days? Must be the weather...  
  
"How are you today, Red?"  
  
"Great, thanks. How are you, Spike?"  
  
"Oh, splendid." His tone was casual, but his eyes were unrelenting, fixed on her face without even so much as a blink. "What brings you to my humble doorstep on this fine day?"  
  
"Oh, it's not so fine, really." Willow tried to ease the tension by moving forward and sitting on the floor, to the left of the slate that occupied the centre of the crypt. Now the shadow protected her from Spike's stare. She had come here often in last weeks, and never had he looked at her like this. Was he angry? Did her company bore him?  
  
"It's very hot. I suppose there's a storm coming. My head felt all muddy, so I went for a walk, and then I figured it would be cool inside here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude or anything. I thought you'd be asleep."  
  
"You're not intruding, Red. My crypt is your crypt." The touch of genuine humour in Spike's voice filled Willow with a measure of relief. Maybe he wasn't staring at her at all, maybe she was just imaginging things. Too much brooding on her own lately, and then the dazed walk though the seamingly dead town...  
  
"So, how was yesterday night?"  
  
Again the furious rush of heat to her face. But the shadows protected her, he couldn't see her, he couldn't see her...  
  
"Yesterday night? What do you mean?"  
  
"You went out, didn't you?"  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"This is not an interrogation, Red." Well, but that's exactly how it looks like, Spike, Willow thought. What is it you want from me?  
  
Spike bent his head to light a cigarette, but somehow his eyes never left Willow's face, and she could feel them piercing her skin even through the shadows. Eyes blue as a true heart, she thought suddenly. Where had she heard that line? Was it a song? A poem?  
  
"It's just a friendly question. Did you have a good time? Meet someone nice?"  
  
"Well, I hate to disappoint you, Spike, but the fact is that I WAS alone in my room all night long, and if this is some kind of joke, I'm sorry but I'm missing the point."  
  
Spike moved for the first time since Willow had stepped into the crypt. He turned his back to her. Now he wasn't looking at her anymore, and his voice was hard and much lower than usual.  
  
"I AM disappointed, Willow. I am."  
  
"But why? What's the matter, Spike? I really was in my room, and I don't understand-"  
  
Still not looking at her, he spoke the words fiercely, almost spitting them out.  
  
"I could FEEL it, Willow. All of it. You can't lie to me, remember? I can feel you cringing at this very moment."  
  
Willow was silent.  
  
"But I suppose you would. After all, I'm evil, worse than an animal. I don't deserve the truth."  
  
Willow stood up and stepped out of the shadow.  
  
"William."  
  
Spike didn't answer. For a moment, Willow felt the temptation to turn around, run out of the crypt, run and run and run for miles, until she reached a place where she would never have to see him, never speak to him again, where this cursed bond couldn't reach her. The shame was too overwhelming.  
  
But she knew that such a place didn't exist, and she also knew that even if it existed, that was not where she wanted to be. Because here was where she wanted to be, right here and right now, and Willow realised that she was willing to risk much more than just the shame. Shame was a small price to pay for what she had seen in Spike's eyes when she had stepped through that door: anger, hopelessness, desire. That was what she wanted: whatever those eyes, eyes blue as a true heart, had to offer.  
  
Willow took one more step forward and said." I WAS alone, William."  
  
"Oh, Willow..." Spike felt too tired to answer, to be exasperated or frustrated by her stubborness.  
  
One more step. And another. And another. Until she stood close enough to put her hands on his shoulders and turn him around to face her.  
  
"Listen to me, just listen. Yesterday night I... I felt- everything you felt, but I - WAS - ALONE. Do you understand?" Please, please don't make me explain...  
  
Confusion crossed Spike's face. Then he blinked once. Then twice.  
  
"Oh..."  
  
"Yes, oh."  
  
"You were... alone."  
  
"Yes. And I had forgotten everything about that stupid bond." Willow hesitated and added: "I was lonely, and- "  
  
Spike interrupted her hastily. "You don't have to explain anything."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I had no right to lash out at you like that. If you were with someone and didn't want to tell me, that's none of my bloody business."  
  
"I know that, too."  
  
He began to pace, dropped his cigarette and fumbled for another. But just as Willow had felt his smile through the protecting shadows, now she felt his smile. It was a smile of relief. He was happy, happy that she hadn't spent the night with someone else. And his happiness made her happy, his smile made her smile.  
  
Neither of them brought up the subject of the previous night again. In fact, they didn't speak much at all during the remainder of the afternoon. They just sat on the floor, with their backs against the wall, and shared the silence. Willow's last thought before she dozed off, her head on Spike's shoulder, was "maybe this bond works in more ways than even HE knows. Maybe..." 


	3. Chapter 3

Comment:Or rather - warning!! There is some pretty nasty stuff in here, and I don't mean NICE nasty stuff. Readers expecting things to move on to the final big, hot scene between Willow and Spike will be disappointed - for now.  
  
As for Spike himself... all I can say is: more chapters are coming up soon, and he's been dead for so long - a day or two won't hurt him too much, will they?  
  
Chapter 3  
  
No matter how hard she tried, Willow would never be able to remember what she was dreaming when they came. And she tried very hard, because she knew that was one of the best, sweetest dreams she had ever had. Maybe it was the best, and certainly it was the last good dream in a long long time. After that afternoon, where she had walked through a grey haze to Spike's crypt and had fallen asleep on his shoulder, dreams were not so sweet anymore.  
  
They were on them in a second. Yells, black boots, flashes of green cloth and metal. Willow was pushed aside and her head knocked against the wall. Someone yanked her to her feet. Sleep still on her eyes, she grabbed for Spike, but they already had him halfway to the door.  
  
"Hey, won't he turn to green goo if we expose him to sunlight?"  
  
"That's the X-Files, you moron. Vampires turn to dust. What do you do with the research-files we get, paper dolls?"  
  
"Shut up. The Colonel wants this one alive. We'll have to wait 'til dusk."  
  
Spike tried to turn around to where Willow was standing. He struggled against the soldier that was holding him, and immediatly doubled up in pain.  
  
"Don't, Spike! I'm ok."  
  
"What do you want with her? Let her go!"  
  
"Shouldn't have been here in the first place. Nice girl like this, snuggling up with the likes of you. You're no better than animals in a cave. I wanna puke all over this place."  
  
"Very inspirational", snickered Spike. "Really, you're moving me to tears here. And nowhere else, at least for a good long while, as your adorable collegue here so brightly and justly remarked. Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen."   
  
Think, think, he needed time to think. If it had been just him, he would have run out into the sunlight without hesitation, or fought them until the chip killed him - anything before returning to the white cell. But Willow was here, what did they want from her? Her demeanor was calm, but Spike could feel barely controlled fear raging though her.  
  
"We'll just pull a blanket over you, what do you think we are, stupid?"  
  
"Well, now that you mention it - yes, the thought had crossed my mind."  
  
"That's enough, put him out! And the girl too, we don't need her screaming and howling all the way down home."  
  
"No, wait, I won't scream, I won't-"  
  
--------------  
  
It was a smooth operation from the inside. Riley had his men in all the right places, and as soon as word reached him that they were ready to leave, he had them move into position. He had the feeling this was the last time he would get a chance to use all his military skills, and he certainly would never again work with the kind of resources the Initiavtive offered him. So, he intended to make a show of it. This was personal.  
  
--------------  
  
They were killing them. Methodically, one after the other. This wasn't experimenting anymore, it was not what they called "research", and they didn't have the time to torture them for fun, either. This was a routine, the final routine. Willow could hear the cries coming closer at a measured pace that almost had a rythm to it. Capture demons, put them in cells, kill all the demons in cells, start all over. Like a videogame at beginner level.  
  
The fact that the soldiers talked about what they were doing openly in front of her scared Willow more than anything else. They had been carrying the bodies of the dead creatures past the glass front-panel of her cell for hours and hours. This wasn't some under-cover, top-secret, hush-hush operation. This was "get outta here fast and nasty". This was defeat.  
  
The order had come unexpectedly. Well, yes, things were not running so smoothly. There had been various instances of prisoners escaping, that college-witch-girl hacking her way into their security system, a good man like Riley running off with another of those college-sluts, the one who called herself a Slayer... Well, they knew they weren't signing up for some nice nine-to-five office job. Worse things had happened in the Inititiative's long and turbulent history.  
  
But now, the big shots, HQ and all the heavy brass had decided the Sunnydale base was no longer worth it. At least for now. Too many hostiles, too many unexpected variables. So, the order was to do as much damage as possible in 24 hours of non-stop duty for all hands, then pack up and leave. The machine was working, and whatever got in its way would be grinded to dust.  
  
Or whoever.  
  
The heavy atmosphere of adrenaline, testosterone, human and non human fear, and sweat had Willow ready to faint. She knew that somewhere, in some room with bare walls, some men in uniforms would be deciding what to do with her. And she knew the deliberations wouldn't be long. One civilian "casualty" was very acceptable under these circumstances. Under ANY circumstances, actually. Besides, they had a personal grudge on her. She wondered vaguely how they would do it: use the same instruments they were using with the demons and vampires (stakes, knifes, spikes - yes, spikes), or actually have the grace to waste a bullet on her.  
  
She couldn't care less. At this point, Willow had ceased to care. If this was the world she lived in, a world of white cells, cries of pain and anguish, and drops of blood on boots so perfectly polished you could see your reflection in them - then she was beyond caring. A world where a 200-year-old man whom she had given her blood to drink had vanished into dust just because someone was in a hurry. A man on whose shoulder she had been peacefully sleeping a whole lifetime ago. A man with eyes blue as a true heart.  
  
And it was the same soldier who had commented on Spike's death casually, passing outside her cell half an hour ago, who now entered her own cell to kill her. Willow rose to her feet.  
  
He was nervous. Willow could see sweat pearling his upper lip and temples. There was a gun in his hand, and it was shaking. Willow smiled, and her lips began to move, barely producing any sound.  
  
"I... I'm here to... my orders are..."   
  
The boy was not yet out of his teens, there was a burst of acne around his nose. He kept looking anxiously over his shoulder. There were undefined noises, shouts, bumps, and the sound of running feet, coming closer. When he looked back at her, Willow's smile made him shiver. He forgot what he wanted to say, he forgot what his orders were. He froze.  
  
"I know who you are. You are the hunter, and the queen has sent you out to bring back Snow-White's heart."  
  
Her lips continued moving, but the soldier couldn't hear a sound. Suddenly, he felt a hotness trickling down his throat. When he wanted to speak, he only produced a few chortled, gurgling noises. Gripping his throat with both hands, he stared at Willow in unbelieving horror.  
  
She continued to murmur, blood started to spurt forth underneath the soldier's hands - and Riley and Buffy came running around the corner just as his head was hitting the ground with a soft, unremarkable "thump".  
  
"Willow! Are you - oh my GOD!"  
  
The body of the soldier crashed to the floor beside his severed head. Willow spoke the final words of the spell and looked up. Buffy had turned her head in disgust, and Riley's unnaturally wide eyes were fixed on Carter's head, which had rolled into the far right corner of the cell. Carter, that was his name. Riley could remember that he always had scrambled eggs with ketchup for breakfast and wore a lucky Saint Christopher's medal around his neck. His mother had had it purified with holy water from Lourdes.  
  
When his eyes finally met Willows, he only saw confusion. Her voice was low, and her tone that of a person who wants to be polite but isn't really interested in the answer to her question.  
  
"Who is God?" 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
"I still can't believe what she did."  
  
It was Xander who finally voiced the thought that had been on their minds all this time. He was standing beside the couch in Giles' living room, looking down at Willow, so still and pale. Giles was sitting on a kitchen stool, holding a cold cup of tea in his hands, Buffy sat in the armchair facing the couch, with Riley standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder. A fire-truck with a howling siren passed the street in front of the house. No one had spoken a word since they had arrived, nearly an hour ago.  
  
The intervention of Riley's men didn't really interfere with the initial evacuation plan. It just accelerated it. The hunt and kill was stopped, all files were deleted, various fires were set throughout the subterranean facilities - in the end, all Riley could lay his hands on were a bunch of confused former comrades, who followed him out into the sunlight blinking as if after years of imprisonment, and who would be charged of vague accusations ranging from attempted assault to membership in an illegal organisation. None of these accusations would be proved, of course, and they would be released to go home to their parent's farms and shoeshops, to college or to radical patriotic clubs, where they would eventually be spotted and picked up by Initiative agents again.  
  
It never ends, does it?, Riley thought, looking at the girl on the couch who had cut off a men's head with mere words she had spoken. Buffy's voice snapped him out of his disconsolate reverie.  
  
"It was self-defense. He was going to kill her, him or someone else. They were not going to release her just like that. And besides... it was madness down there. She didn't know hat she was doing, she..."  
  
"You don't have to defend her, Buffy. She's never going to stand before a jury, if that's what's worrying you. No one's ever going to know she any of us was down there. The police and fire departments of this city have years ahead of them to wonder what exactly happened today."  
  
"I'm not defending her, Xander, I'm... I don't know what I'm doing, I guess I'm trying to understand..." The defeat in her voice tugged at Riley's heart. Giles shifted on his stool, but remained silent.  
  
"What is there to understand? She has a power, and she used it. Just like you do."  
  
Spike had been so quiet, and they were so concentrated on Willow's form on the couch, that everyone had forgotten him, seated crosslegged on the floor at her head, eyes never leaving her face. Now that he had reminded them of his presence, Buffy felt an enormous wave of relief wash over her. HERE was the guilty one, everything was his fault. He was a vampire, he was evil, and surely he had influenced her poor, innocent friend in some perverse way. HE would pay.  
  
Buffy jumped up and clenched her fists in fury.  
  
"You - you... what are you even doing here? You have no right to be here! If it wasn't for you, nothing would have happened to her. You... you had her there in your dirty - CAVE, and you better tell me right now what she was doing there!"  
  
"She wanted to be there." He didn't raise his voice and didn't turn.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure, like I'm going to believe that! Ever since she brought you back from the Initiative she's been acting weird, and I'm betting all the Powers of the Slayer that you did something to her down there! One day she's Miss Science-Library, and the next she spends all her time in a vampire's crypt? What did you do to scare her so much? did you threaten her? Did you hurt her,you.., you filthy - BEAST?"  
  
"Buffy, no... wait... maybe you should..." Giles stood up. There were deep lines etched around his mouth and his eyes were hollow. Xander thought, for the first time, that he looked like an old man.  
  
"Wait, Giles? WAIT? No, I think we have waited just about enough." She spun around, grabbed a chair and broke off its leg with one firm snap. Then she turned to face Spike again, who was still sitting on the floor in the exact same position, still with his back turned to her.  
  
"Get up, Spike! Let's get this over with, and then we can all go and have an ice-cream to celebrate a job well done and well finished."  
  
Buffy was on the edge of hysteria. One more second of this - inhuman indifference would push her right over, and then...  
  
"Spike...?"  
  
Willow's eyes were still closed, and her voice was a hoarse whisper. Spike caught her groping hand.  
  
"Yes, Willow. I am here."  
  
Her eyelids fluttered open. She heaved a sigh that immediatly became a retching cough.   
  
"Got to give up smoking, Red. It's going to kill you one of these days."  
  
She laid her hand on his cheek and murmured: "Eyes blue as a true heart..."   
  
A flash of recognition and pain crossed Spike's face. That was the last line in the last poem he had ever written. He had never shown it to anyone.  
  
Wide eyes never leaving his face, and with her hand still on his cheek, Willow said: " They said they had killed you... 'dusted' you, they called it..."  
  
"Well, talk is cheap when you're on the run, isn't it?"   
  
He smiled. "Those guys were killing vampires by the dozen. That's hard work, you can't expect them to remember every single murder."  
  
Willow smiled back, shaking her head slightly, still not quite believing what she saw. Her mind was a blank. Or rather, her mind was not her own. It felt like a wild animal that was asleep. When it woke up, it would tear her to pieces. But Spike was here. He was here.  
  
She moved her head to take in Buffy, still standing behind Spike with the severed piece of wood in her hand, Riley beside the armchair, and Giles' a little farther off, by the kitchen counter.  
  
"Buffy, what happened? Is everyone ok?"  
  
"What? Oh - yes, yes, we're fine. Riley... he was informed of - well, he had friends, and-"  
  
"Are they gone?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The Initiative. Are they gone? Did they leave Sunnydale?"  
  
"Yes", answered Riley. "They burned everything. Left no trace. No one will ever know." After a pause he added:   
  
"I'm sorry." He was not very sure why he had done that, or if it was Willow he meant. It just seemed appropriate somehow.  
  
Willow sat up on the couch, and then stood tentatively. Her knees buckled, Spike caught her, and all of a sudden she was holding on to him as if she never wanted to let go again. She remembered the cell, and the smells, and the cries of cratures in agony. The men passing had spoken of Spike's death, and then there had been darkness, and the wild animal in her mind had woken up. And now she was so terribly tired, and there was a stake in Buffy's hand, and pain in Giles' eyes, and tears in Xander's, and Spike was the only real thing in a world that had fallen apart and was no more.  
  
MY William, she thought, and the fierce posessiveness of the thought caught her off guard. It was a frightening thought, to belong to him and to feel that he belonged to her, but it was RIGHT, and as she stepped back to look at the man she was embracing, she knew that nothing that had happened to her, not today, not in the last weeks, not before, had changed her life as much as the last seconds had.  
  
His face was somber, but his hands were closed firmly on Willow's arms. He knew it too, had known it long before her: he had felt her fear for him, and then as if something had been torn apart inside her, and then a darkness so deep and complete he thought it would claim him forever. And then an almost painful coming together when she had woken up and seen him there. Standing there, in the Watcher's dusty and slightly untidy living room, Willow and Spike were only confirming a bond far beyond the giving and taking of one human's blood.  
  
The broken leg of the chair fell from Buffy's hand , useless and silly. Spike had not once looked at her.  
  
"Will you be allright?", he asked Willow.   
  
She nodded. How could she feel so good, in the midst of all this horror? It was exhilarating, how much they could say to each other without words. He was leaving because she wanted to talk to her friends alone. He would be waiting for her. She would come to him. All that in less than a second, in one look that would mean nothing to anyone else.   
  
Spike turned to leave, taking a blanket from Giles' couch to protect himself from the sunlight. If a lucky soldier hadn't found his duster and taken it along to Kansas or Roswell or wherever the bastards were heading, by now it would be a handful of ashes under Sunnydale's ground. Maybe sticking to the sole of a bloody firemen's boot.  
  
Almost as an afterthought, he leaned down to kiss his Willow's lips. She tasted like green grass and dark wine.  
  
Then he left, and Willow turned around to face her friends. 


	5. Chapter 5

Comment:On very special request, here goes one "a little less scary". In fact, as far as I am concerned, I am as ready for reconciliation and happy endings as I'll ever be.  
  
On the other hand, I have learned the hard way that characters usually have their own plans already when I show up, and all I can do is hope someone invited me to the party.  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
When Willow came back from the bathroom, the bed was empty. She stood in the doorway for a moment. Her eyes went to the window: it was still dark outside, the cold stars sparkled in the sky, deep silence hushed the campus. Four o'clock. With her mind's eye, Willow could see a black, slight figure gliding over the lawn, seeking refuge in the town's dark alleys. Wandering restlessly, sticking his hands in and out of his pockets, lighting a cigarette.  
  
Willow sighed and closed the door behind her. Then she dropped her oversized T-Shirt, stepped out of her panties and slid naked under the covers. She could still see the form of his body on the sheets, could feel his coolness on her skin. She closed her eyes and waited.  
  
-------------  
  
Buffy had practically become her shadow during the past two weeks. Let's have lunch, there's a party you just can't miss, let's go shopping, let's play scrabble with the guys at Giles'...  
  
Willow had been patient. She knew Buffy needed to feel she was protecting her if only a little longer, if only a few more days. Willow was only too willing to share those days with her friends. What was, was, and nothing and no one, not even the Slayer, could stop it from happening. If time was what Buffy needed, time was what Willow would offer her.  
  
After Spike had kissed her and left Giles' house that day, Buffy sank down onto the couch. Seldom had she looked so small and helpless. This was not the powerful Slayer, but just a young girl who had lost something. As she began to speak, Willow could see tears swimming in her eyes and felt deep sorrow. There had been a time it was the other way round, when it was Willow who had been lost and Buffy had felt pity for her. But not anymore. Willow had been found.  
  
"Do you think I don't understand? Do you think I don't know how you feel?", Buffy said, twisting her hands and staring at the carpet.  
  
"I've been there, Willow, I've been right were you are now. Your life seems empty and meaningless, and suddenly there's this MAN, this... mysterious, dark creature, and everything is so intense, you never thought life could feel like this. It's - it's ecstasy, it's almost perfection. And then you don't know what you're doing anymore, except that you were MEANT to do it, and you don't care anymore, not about your friends, not about your life, not about right or wrong..."  
  
She took a deep, shaky breath and finally looked up to Willow, who was looking down on her with compassion and pity on her face. And although Buffy could sense a steely determination behind that face, she still pushed on. She had to speak, had to make her understand, she just HAD to...  
  
"Until one day you wake up, and you don't know who you are anymore. The man that you thought you would love forever has turned into a stranger, and you're all alone, surrounded by nothing but darkness and - and evil, and... I don't want you to ever feel like that, Willow, I don't want you to suffer what I suffered!"  
  
Buffy was pleading now, tears streaming openly down her face. Willow sat down beside her.  
  
"I know, Buffy. I know what you have been through, I know being with Angel hurt you more than I will ever know."  
  
Riley flinched, but remained silent. This moment belonged to the women; the three men stood motionless, hardly daring to breathe.  
  
"And just the same, there are things you don't know about me. What happened with that soldier - no, Buffy, let me finish. I know what you want to say, I know what you want to believe, but it's not true. That was me. I killed him, and I knew what I was doing. I wanted to do it."  
  
Buffy opened her mouth, but closed it again.  
  
"I have yet to find out who or what I am, Buffy. But one thing I do know: I am not you. I don't feel like you do, I don't think like you do, and whatever happened to you will not happen to me in the same way. You can't protect me from my own life, and you can't live it for me, either."  
  
"But he will hurt you!"  
  
"Yes, maybe."  
  
"He will leave you!" This was Giles, unable to keep still any longer.  
  
"Probably."  
  
"He'll cheat on you all the time!"  
  
"Oh, yes, I'm sure he'll do that, Xander."  
  
"Then why are you smiling?"  
  
"I don't know. I just feel happy when I think about him."  
  
"I never thought I'd ever hear anyone say that meaning Spike." Xander shook his head in manner that indicated he had given up already.  
  
"He's not good, you know that, don't you?"   
  
"Oh, Xander, how can we still think we can KNOW how things are, or what other people are like? How can we still presume to know what's good and what's bad? After everything we've been through, everything we've seen... He is what he is, and I am - what I am. All I know is that we belong together now."  
  
There was a long pause. There wasn't much left to be said. Except...  
  
"So you'll just have to find out, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll just have to find out."  
  
Xander stepped forward and enveloped Willow in a bear hug. Before he let her go, he whispered in her ear: "I'll always love you."  
  
"I love you too, Xander."  
  
Giles had left his glasses on the kitchen counter and was blinking furiously. He hugged Willow, then cupped her face with his hands and said: "You can always come to me, you hear me? No matter what happens, no matter how much time passes, no matter what you-"  
  
"No matter what I do?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I know, Giles."  
  
"Hey, what is this?" Buffy was sniffling and wiping her face, smearing make up all over it.  
  
"It's not like Willow is going to war or something. She just has a new boyfriend. And what's all this fuzz about anyway? I mean, her last boyfriend was a werewolf, right? A vampire should be easy to handle after that."  
  
Willow smiled and took her friend's hand.  
  
"Exactly my thought." If that was what Buffy wanted to believe, who was she to make her friend unhappy? Enough unhappiness would come upon them soon, Willow could feel it in her bones, but until then...  
  
She took Buffy's hands and kissed her cheek. "See you later at the Bronze?"  
  
"Sure." Buffy hesitated. "Bring Spike, if you want."  
  
"No way, this is going to be a girl's night."  
  
"Wait, you mean I can't come?"  
  
"Sure Xander, I said girl's night, didn't I?"  
  
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Sooooo funny, is this the latest joke from the crypt?"  
  
Willow grinned back at him, kissed Giles on the cheek, waved a friendly goodbye to Riley and went out the door. Xander's smile faded.  
  
"She has no idea what she's doing, has she?"  
  
Buffy still stood in the middle of the room, her shoulders slightly slumped forward.  
  
"Know what? I got the feeling that right now, she is the only one who actually might have a clue."  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Guess the characters were as ready for frienschip, good will and happy pie as I was after all:))  
  
Was this too mushy for you? I have a fairly sweet little epilogue with Willow and Spike all ready and waiting. You want to read it, or did this make you sick? Please let me know!! 


	6. Epilogue

Comment:Ok, this is as fluffy as it gets. Hey, don't complain, there's a bed in it, isn't there?  
  
But beware, there is still darkness lurking somewhere, and we KNOW perfect bliss is seldom very longlived in Sunnydale. If you and I get very, very lucky, we even may hear some stories about it...:))  
  
This is for Caroline X, for bringing out the Fluff in me :)), and for general sweetness and support. Thanks!!  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
"Small hands that hold  
the passing of time-  
sweet lips that offer  
the wisdom of men-  
a spirit that brings with it  
the wind that sweeps the desert.  
  
Eyes blue as a true heart...  
  
- that's it. That's as far as I got."  
  
"And you never wrote another poem after that?"  
  
"No. I was... otherwise engaged, all of a sudden."  
  
Willow didn't want to follow that line of conversation, so instead she said:  
  
"That was beautiful, William."  
  
"That piece of fluff? Naw, just sentimental nonsense." But he smiled, drew her closer to him and kissed her temple. Lately, he had been toying with the idea of giving the old rhyming-machine another try. A two-century-old piece of fluff was as good a start as any - and he liked that part about the desert. It reminded him of his Willow, her spirit so strong and her skin so warm against his...  
  
HIS Willow. There it was again. What an absurd thought. The thought of a man who would still look into the future, who would still believe... He had not been that kind of man for a long time.   
  
Spike slid his arm from under her shoulders and leaned on the other elbow to look out of the window, then at the clock. Three. A long time until dawn yet.  
  
Willow knew he was thinking of leaving. She knew he would leave, eventually, but this was too soon, too soon! It had taken her two weeks to convince Buffy to spend a night with Riley (two weeks! to spend a night with Riley!!!), so Spike would have a chance to come visit her at the dorm, if he wanted. Willow hadn't invited him explicitly, just mentioned that Buffy would be out the whole night. By the look he gave her, she knew that he knew, of course. She wanted him to come and be with her, but she didn't dare ask him to do it. It would hurt too much if he didn't come.  
  
But he had come, and now Willow was fighting to keep him with her another hour, or just half an hour, a couple of minutes, because when he left the icey cold would begin to grow in her again, and she would feel her strength flowing out of her body. How strange love was, that it would make physical pain out of a mere absence...  
  
"William?"  
  
"Yes?" He let himself fall back on the bed, but didn't take her in his arms again.  
  
"Were you thinking of someone?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"When you wrote that poem. Were you thinking of someone - special?"  
  
He turned his head to look at her and smiled.  
  
"No, my- No, Red. I was just dreaming." After a thoughtful pause he added: "It seems strange that I should still be able to do that."  
  
"What... writing poems?"  
  
"No, dreaming. I've lost the ability for so many other things..."  
  
"What things?"  
  
Almost unconsciously, he put his arm around her again and let her rest her head against his chest.  
  
"Well, like... compassion, for example. That's the first to go. You can't afford it when you feed on others for survival - and you don't need it when you do it for pleasure."  
  
Willow tried not to shudder. She tried not to think about what she had felt when that soldier's head had thumped on the floor of the cell...  
  
"Then you lose hope. What do men hope for? Money, a long life, women, salvation in eternity... everything one could possibly hope for comes naturally with being a vampire - except for the salvation, of course."  
  
"Of course", Willow whispered.  
  
"And last of all, you lose curiosity. The ultimate motive that keeps humans going is not survival instinct, it's not love, or fear of death, or even that soddin' eternal salvation business.... it's curiosity, pure and simple. What's going to happen next? Tomorrow, next week, next Christmas, after the wedding? What's behind the next corner? And the next?"  
  
He paused again.  
  
"You see, there comes a time when you've turned every corner, when you've already SEEN the next day, and you know what no one else knows."  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
"That it's just like the day before."  
  
After that, they had been silent, and Willow could feel him drifting farther and farther away from her. Until she couldn't take it any longer. Sadness threatened to overcome her, and she wouldn't cry in front of him. Not on their first night. He would despise her, and maybe come to the conclusion that she wasn't strong enough to be his, that she wasn't worth it. So she had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and when she came back, he was gone.  
  
--------------  
  
And now she lay in the bed they had shared, her eyes closed, breathing slowly. Waiting. She couldn't have said what she was waiting for. She kept her eyes shut, she kept breathing. Willow waited. Finally, she fell asleep.  
  
--------------  
  
A cool breeze brushing her ear woke her. She blinked. It must be day, because sunlight was creeping into the room under the door. But the blinds were down and the curtains drawn. How could she have felt a breeze, then?  
  
"Good morning, William", she whispered.  
  
"Go back to sleep. It's still early." Now she was aware of his arms surrounding her, aware (oh, so aware!) of his naked body against her back.  
  
Tears swelled in her eyes and dropped heavy on the pillow, but she managed to keep her voice steady.  
  
"Forgot something?"  
  
"Yes, I... I came back for my cigarettes, and then the sun was coming up already, so I had to stay, and, um... well, I didn't really want to sleep on Buffy's bed, so... I hope you don't mind."  
  
"No, I don't mind."  
  
Willow smiled, then ventured:  
  
"You know, I saw you put your cigarettes in the pocket of your new jacket, and you took that when you left."  
  
"Did I now?"  
  
"Mhm."  
  
"Well, why don't we pretend I didn't? Then maybe we can pretend you didn't just ruin a perfectly good pillow by crying all over it."  
  
She could feel him smile against the back of her neck, making the fine hair there stand on end. His hand traced the length of her arm.  
  
"Go back to sleep. I will be here when you wake up."  
  
Willow closed her eyes. 


End file.
